


Ghostwalker

by carpfish



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Ambiguous Avatar Gender, Ambiguous Father, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 07:23:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpfish/pseuds/carpfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a man who takes such pride in his science, Laurent has always had the most unhealthy habit of clinging onto ghosts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Father Dearest

**Author's Note:**

> In which Laurent is a man of science, denies the truth, chases ghosts, and waits forever. // ambiguous fatherhood

The house is fraught with jagged shadows and dark corners, and Laurent steels himself with all the bravery in his frail six year old body as he sees the apparitions of monsters and Risen out of the corners of his eyes. The floor is cold when his feet touch the floor, and he slides out of his bed, tucking his blanket back over his pillow, before heading for the door. The creak of the floorboards and the rattling of his closet door do nothing to comfort him. Laurent swallows. His pulse is hard and fast in his chest, reverberating in his ears like the rat-a-tat of a galloping horse's hooves upon cobblestones. 

Laurent's father had once told him that he need not fear anything, for his parents would always love and protect him. Laurent has no doubts of his mother's love, no matter how awkward and roundabout she may be in expressing it. However, she has always stayed awake into the early hours of the morning, too engrossed in her research to notice the hours slipping away until the first rays of sunlight crept through the windows of her laboratory. Thus it had been Laurent's father who would comfort him in his times of fear, through night terrors and supernatural scares. Laurent hasn't seen his father in nearly three months, and judging by the way his mother averts her gaze and presses her lips into a stern line every time Laurent inquires as to the time of his return, Laurent gets the feeling that his father will not be coming home in a very long time. 

It's easy to locate his mother's laboratory, the only room in the house still lit at such late hours. In the pitch-black corridor, Laurent sees the flicker of candlelight, a small dancing wave of illumination leaking out from the crack of the laboratory door, and heads towards it, pulled like a ship to a lighthouse. The door opens with a soft scratching sound as the warped wood scrapes against the floor as Laurent peeks his head through the gap, half-fearing the consequences of interrupting his mother's research. His mother whips around in his direction immediately, shoulders tense and fingertips cracking with magic ready for release, before she registers who the intruder is, and relaxes. Clearing her throat and sitting up in her chair, she raises an eyebrow in an inquisitive manner. "Laurent, what incites your arousal from slumber at so nocturnal an hour?" She asks. Most of the time, even with his wide vocabulary, while Laurent usually understands the meaning of his mother's questions, he only recognizes about half of the words used. This time, her words are more simple, perhaps an indication of the late hour. 

The boy shuffles his feet as he enters the laboratory, and he hesitates to answer, unsure of how his mother would react to his concerns. This is the first time that he has come to her for conciliation in such times, and he hopes that he will not receive an unexpected reaction. In a soft voice, he murmurs his answer once, too hushed for his mother to hear, and she reprimands him sharply, telling him to speak up. When he repeats his words, his voice is significantly shriller than he remembers it being. 

"Mother, I believe there to be an apparition of the supernatural order within my room, and am finding its presence most unconducive to my rest," he informs her, attempting to sound as formal and non-terrified as possible. He braces himself for his mother's response, and rightfully so. Mother is a woman of science, Laurent thinks, as he should be. She makes no effort to hide her disbelief of his claim, and it is apparent upon her sharp features. Laurent is hit by a wave of crippling shame at his own childishness and the illogic of his fears. 

Laurent's mother sighs once, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and middle finger, before flipping the pages of the tome on her desk and returning to her work. "Laurent, I believe I have told you previously that specters and phantasms of such fantasy are merely the delusional machinations of one's own imagination, and should not be taken heed of. These apparitions which you speak of will not harm you. You'd do best to return to sleep, my son." The corner of mother's lip twitches in the way that it does whenever she does not know to react in a situation, and uses a facade of stoicism and academic detachedness to conceal her weakness. Laurent blames her not for what may appear to be a cold rebuke- he and his father had always understood that mother was not the most adept at comforting others, and they had never once held her nature against her. 

Laurent returns to his bed without another word, and the door of the closet seems to rattle even more ominously, the squeaking floorboards making jest of his cowardice. Crawling beneath his blanket and pulling the sheets up to his chin, Laurent focuses on the inhale and exhale of his own respiratory system and on the knowledge that for every time sets, due to the rotation of the earth, it will always rise again. When he told his father about the ghosts, his father would always sit beside him and stay with him until he fell asleep, acting as a ward against all terrors and evils. If Laurent listens carefully, he can hear the clink of glass vials and the scratch of quill against parchment coming from his mother's laboratory. 

Laurent falls asleep to these sounds, and the sincere wish that his father would return from the battlefield.


	2. Mother dearest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even if his mother isn't dead, Laurent is still very much alone. //character death warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok i reread this chapter 2 because i initially wrote it while half asleep and decided it was terrible and completely rewrote it sobs PLEASE ERASE THE PREVIOUS ATROCITY FROM YOUR MIND KTHNX

One morning, Laurent wakes up to the clamor of breaking glass and dropped books. He rushes to the source of the sound, his mother's laboratory, nearly tripping over his own small feet in his haste. The world looks so fuzzy and blurry, and it takes Laurent several moments before he dimly registers that he's forgotten to put on his glasses. Once he arrives in the lab, he sees his mother hunched up on the floor, muttering to herself while brushing the remains of a shattered test tube into her bare palm. He frowns at this, having received enough lectures to know the dangers of cutting oneself on broken glass, and vaguely wonders why his mother is not putting those sermons into practice.

A crumpled piece of parchment lies on his mother's work bench, looking strangely out of place amongst all the scattered vials and beakers, and behind her sits the large bag that she normally uses to transport her scientific apparatus. However, her equipment seems to have been emptied out into the corner of the room, and done rather hastily too, judging by the disorder in which it lies. Instead, the bag is packed with tomes, a few changes of clothing, and provisions of food and water.  Laurent is surprised to see that the satchel isn't stuffed to the brim, given his mother's tendency towards superfluous packing. It appears that she's only bothered to collect the bare essentials for travel, which Laurent finds to be out of character for her, and increasingly odd indeed.

Laurent rubs his bleary eyes with the heel of his palm, trying to process the situation as he surveys the room from the doorway. "Mommy? Is there something wrong?" He asks, and he dislikes how childish he sounds.

Laurent's mother is caught off guard by his sudden presence, and inhales sharply when she cuts herself on a shard of glass in her surprise. It's not like his mother to be so careless, Laurent thinks, his mind still muddled from sleep and confusion. His mother's expression returns to her typical nonchalance within moments, and she brushes her injured hand against the side of her robes, the blood leaving no stain against the black fabric.  She's equally unfazed when she looks up and fixes Laurent with that familiar, level gaze of hers, as she adjusts her glasses on the bridge of her nose. "Laurent, you're awake. Good." She states, strangely plain in her speech, and Laurent can detect a slight tenseness in her voice as well, her words coming out more rushed and nervous than usual.

Laurent's mother seems to have given up on cleaning the glass from the floor, although Laurent knows she dislikes messiness in her workspace, and she stands up to loom over Laurent's short, seven-year-old frame, her tall, lanky build casting a long shadow behind her. "Chrom has issued an emergency edict calling for the shepherds to assemble due to the crises of late. We will be departing for Ylisstol within the hour. I suggest you assemble any necessities post-haste." Laurent knows that his mother is a meticulous planner, and not one for surprise vacations, so the short notice of this departure betrays the gravity of the situation. All drowsiness is immediately banished from Laurent's body as his mind races, wondering what possibly could have happened to call for such a journey.

Laurent stumbles back to his room as quickly as possible, short legs barely able to keep up with the speed of his running, and throws open the drawers of his cupboard. They had only moved into this little cottage in the deep of the woods after Laurent's father had left for battle. Despite having lived here for over a year now, Laurent has still yet to accumulate many personal belongings, so the drawers are mostly empty. Pondering on his mother's suggestion to pack his essentials, Laurent's gaze scans across the contents of his sparsely furnished room, before catching sight of several small bottles tucked in the corner of his bookshelf.

Moments later, Laurent returns to his mother's side in her laboratory, this time with a small scrap of cloth and a jar of healing salve gripped tightly in his small hands. He takes note of his mother's bemused expression, and just as she opens her mouth, no doubt to fire out an unnecessarily verbose inquiry, Laurent interjects before she has the chance to speak. "You've cut yourself," he states plainly, and places his belongings on his mother's workbench before clasping her hand in his. "Proper treatment of even the most insignificant of injuries is of paramount importance. This is for the purpose of preventing infection, and lessening the likelihood of future complications that may further hinder your performance, mother." He parrots his mother's previous lectures as he dabs disinfectant on her wound, before binding a makeshift cloth bandage over the ugly red cut that spreads across the soft skin of her palm. Laurent knows that save for a few calluses from her quill, his mother's hands are wonderfully soft and warm from a career of using tomes and staves, unlike his father's scarred, weapon-worn hands, and part of him enjoys the physical contact.

Laurent's mother is strangely quiet throughout the treatment, and Laurent does not look up to gauge her expression, not due to fear of reprimand, but rather to act as if he doesn't know that she is smiling. When Laurent is finished, he steps back and looks his mother in the eye, light reflecting off the panes of his glasses. "Mother, please be more careful from now on," he advises precociously, before leaving to pack his belongings.

Their rural cottage home is located on the outskirts of Ylisse, and while Laurent knows that his mother has maintained regular correspondence with the capital via pigeon, it's a highly inconvenient and long trip to travel to the capital in person. Laurent remembers  that a few years ago, before his father had left, his mother had been called to Ylisstol in order to report on some important discoveries she'd made, and decided to bring her family along. That trip had taken nearly a week on horseback, and Laurent remembers sleeping in the carriage for much of the trek. This time,  Laurent's mother wants to arrive at Ylisstol within three days. The more Laurent learns, the more anxious he comes, and the more he realizes the direness of the situation at hand, though he knows not the threat that causes his mother to panic so.

They travel as fast as they can, Miriel sparing no time or expense. No matter how much Laurent probes, his mother refuses to tell him the reason for her haste, often shutting Laurent down with a well-phrased retort, or a capricious redirection of conversation. Other times, she merely stays silent and closed to conversation. As they travel through Ylissean countryside on the backs of horses, in rickety carts, and for one stretch in an ornate carriage borrowed from a nobleman, Laurent spots a disturbing trend of refugees and injured civilians in the towns or villages that they pass by. The closer they get to the center of the country, Laurent finds, the worse the crowds of displaced Ylisseans. Even for a seven-year-old child, it doesn't take much deductive reasoning to figure out that there is something very, very wrong going on.

Laurent sees soldiers and mercenaries stationed in every major location that they pass through, and although he knows it's a foolish and childish hope, Laurent can't help but think of his absent father when he sees them. He wonders if he might find his father among these people, or at least procure news of his father's wellbeing from a comrade of his, and proposes to his mother that they should stop and ask the soldiers several questions before moving on. Laurent's mother adjusts her glasses in a manner that signals irritation, and replies with a quick rejection of his idea. There is no time for questions or any other objectives, they must hastily continue their travel if they are to make it to Ylisstol in time. Laurent's mother, ever the seeker of truth, has always been a pathetic liar. Laurent can't help but find it troubling that his mother, who has always encouraged his inquiry and curiosity, seems determined on keeping him in the dark.

On the second night, they stop in a town several hours away from Ylisstol. It is late, but Laurent's mother would have them ride on if it weren't too dark to travel. When they enter the inn asking for rooms, the village girl at the counter tells them there are none left due to the influx of refugees in the town. With a bit more persuasion and coin, the innkeeper permits them to set up camp in a spare storage shed. Laurent finds the conditions of the moldy shack absolutely abhorrent, but his mother seems relatively nonplussed, most likely having experienced far worse during the era of war.  Laurent' father once said that Miriel would be fine anywhere as long there was a roof over her head to keep her tomes from getting rained on. Lying on a bedroll amongst the reeking stench of dirt and mold, it takes forever before he falls asleep.

Laurent feels as if he's scarcely closed his eyes for a moment, before he's jolted awake by the cacophony of noise that has suddenly exploded outside. The first thing he sees is mother shaking him awake, the expression on her face more grim and panicked than he's ever seen it before. "Laurent, conceal yourself among this paraphernalia," she instructs him hastily before shepherding him towards one of the various piles of rusty equipment in the storage shed. As Laurent curls up in between a wheel barrow and a stack of stools, he listens to the muffled sounds of the chaos on the streets. Screaming, footsteps, the clash of metal against metal. Laurent can immediately deduce that this is far worse than a simple brigand raid. For the level of commotion outside and the amount of fear in his mother's voice, they'd have to be assaulted by a veritable army of brigands.

Before he can ask, Laurent's mother pushes a pile of their belongings in front of him to further conceal him, and whispers firm instructions. "Remain here until my return. You are explicitly banned from coming near any fighting, Laurent. Keep yourself safe with the Fire tome in my bag." she tells him, before heading towards the commotion with spell book in hand, no doubt taking it upon herself to defend the civilians from whatever threat lies outside. Just as she opens the door, Laurent notices that she's left her hat among the pile of bags shoved in front of him. Laurent deeply fears for his mother's safety, and while he knows that he cannot stop her, he makes a last-ditch attempt to delay her. "Mother, your hat!"

Laurent's mother hesitates briefly with a foot already outside of the door, and turns to look at him. Laurent doesn't have his glasses on, so he can't see her face clearly, can't make out the kind of expression that she wears in that moment. "You'll have to safeguard it in my stead," is her terse response, and then she's gone. Laurent reaches over and grabs the hat, fingers digging into the fabric as he holds his mother's most prized possession in his grasp.

Laurent doesn't move from his place, even when he hears shrieking right outside the shed, quickly silenced after a sound of blade meeting flesh, and followed by a sick thud on other side of the flimsy shed wall. In the darkness, he can't make out the color of the damp liquid that trickles through the wooden slats and seeps into the edges of his cloak, but it smells like iron and Laurent prays that it isn't blood.

It's late morning by the time the battle ends and by then, Laurent's joints are aching and his lower lip is bloodied from being chewed on.  He is found by a soldier from the emergency relief, clutching his mother's hat and his spell tome in one hand, other hand outstretched and glowing with flames. The man barely has time to raise his shield before Laurent casts the Fire enchantment, but he's so scared and weak that it hardly flickers to life before sputtering itself out of existence.

After the soldier finally convinces Laurent to come with him, Laurent rushes to a crowd of survivors  gathered in front of the ransacked remains of the inn, and immediately demands if anyone has seen his mother. The villagers immediately go quiet, and exchange pitying looks among themselves that only serve to irritate and worry Laurent even further.

"Have you seen my mother?" He repeats, before going on to describe her in more detail. He recounts her crimson hair, her enchanter's robes, and her glasses before one of the townsmen stops him mid sentence. Crouching down to look him in the eye, the man places a hand on Laurent's shoulder, and Laurent feels his blood run cold. Gently, the man tells Laurent that his mother is most likely dead, like so many others who had fought against the Risen.

 _Risen_. It's a foreign word to Laurent, but he can immediately tell that whatever or whoever performed the attack on this town must have been formidable. Nevertheless, he finds it nigh-impossible to believe that individuals as mundane and defenseless as the ones that stand before him could survive the attack when his mother, a Shepherd of Ylisse and a hero, could not. Laurent refuses to place all his faith in one man's baseless words, and immediately does what he knows his mother would do: To seek evidence and truth for himself. He places his own mother's hat on his head, and it's far too big for him, slipping down and covering his eyes, but he simply tips the oversized headgear back until it tentatively fits. Ignoring others' concern and offers of protection, Laurent heads to the battlefield, determined to draw his own conclusions. Logically speaking, the only solid confirmation of his mother's death would be to see her corpse with his own eyes. "I must find my mother," he tells the adults who try to hold him back, his voice simple and matter-of-fact. "She'll be wanting her hat back."  

The streets are worse for wear where several Risen had made their way in, but most of the fighting had taken place in the fields right outside the town gates. Laurent spends the day scouring the perimeter of the battlefield, digging through debris and tossing aside broken swords and spears. There are bodies, many of them of every kind. Some human, with crusts of dried blood caked on their wounds, and others Risen, with cracked masks and the skin of men long dead. At one point, Laurent lifts a dented shield to find the crushed corpse of a figure who appears to be wearing the black robes of a sorcerer. The body is too charred from the shoulders up to identify, no doubt from the blast of an enemy mage's spell. Laurent feels the tears sting at the back of his eyes and the bile rising in his throat at the gory sight, before a memory comes to him. He grabs the corpse's cold hands and flips them over to see unblemished palms, void of the injury that he'd treated for his mother. Laurent feels guilty for letting out a small sigh, thankful that this dead mage is not her.   

Laurent finds catches a glimpse of scarlet hair lying beneath a collapse portion of the wall, and immediately sets toward unearthing it from the rubble. In his haste and carelessness, he neglects to notice a broken dagger wedged between two rocks, and accidentally cuts himself upon its jagged edge, leaving a long gash on his palm. Laurent shrinks back,  before steeling himself and returning to his task. He wipes the injured hand against the side of his robes, the blood leaving no stain on the black fabric, and continues to dig through the debris, uncaring of infection. Much to his relief, the corpse isn't his mother's but that of a red-headed knight whom despite the bruises on his face and dents in his armor, looks so peaceful in his death that he might as well have been sleeping.

At the end of the day, Laurent's findings are inconclusive. He has looked across the entire battlefield, and the entire town, but found not a single corpse that resembles his mother. She's alive, he knows it to be so. If he cannot find her dead, then by process of elimination, she simply must be alive. The words buzz in Laurent's head like a mantra as he lifts stone after stone, flips over corpse after corpse, dead set on disproving his mother's death. The hope that she lives is the only thing spurring him onwards at this point, even after ever muscle in his body has tired, and every joint in his body aches.

Laurent ultimately decides that if he cannot find his mother here, then it must have been because she's moved on to Ylisstol in order to complete her task. If that is the case, then he will follow her there in order to meet her. Laurent knows that his mother has to be alive, somewhere. What he doesn't understand is why she would have left him to go to battle, just like his father did. He knows his mother is alive, swears upon it, but even if she isn't dead, Laurent is still very much alone.

When the sun finally sets, Laurent is alone on his hands and knees in the middle of a field of corpses, and he cries.


	3. Lover Dearest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurent watches Robin dissolve into dust right before his eyes. //more character death (are you really surprised by this point)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, I tried to keep the tactician's gender ambiguous, so I hope that it didn't end up too annoying. Major spoilers for the game's end.

Laurent watches Robin dissolve into dust right before his eyes. The tactician's blade sinks deep into Grima's chest, dark power and blackened blood bleeding from the wound as the evil replica falls apart, iridescent scales and flakes of skin blowing away in the breeze. Laurent feels no momentary surge of joy at the end of the war, the end of the struggle. Instead, all he can focus upon is the sensation of his heart dropping to his stomach, and what feels like all his lifeblood draining out of him as he watches the darkness spread onto Robin, like a skin infection. The Tactician, the Avatar of Grima, has struck the final blow to destroy the Earth Dragon's other half, and it is now time to pay the price that they had both feared from the start.

The glowing particles of a dying dragon that fill the sky resemble the dust off a butterfly's wing, beautiful and harmful to the touch. Laurent would love nothing more than to reach out to Robin, to grab onto the sleeve of the tactician's robe like he'd neglected to do with his mother before she'd left, and childishly beg Robin not to go. It's a selfish wish, to trade the safety of the world and future for the happiness of one couple. But Laurent had hoped for so long, had prayed to Naga for the first time since his childhood,  that after such a life of loneliness, this would be the one thing that he could have to keep. On some level, it's Robin own fault, Laurent knows. But without such self-sacrificial kindness, it would not be the same Robin whom Laurent had come to fall in love with.

Laurent stands rooted in place, wide-eyed and open-mouthed as Robin whispers some last words to Chrom, and the tactician's shape begins to fade beyond recognition. Every muscle in Laurent's body is locked up, frozen stiff, and there are a million things that he wants to do. He wants to embrace Robin one last time, he wants to catch on to Robin's hand before his beloved disappears from this world. He wants to scream _Don't leave me, Stay, I'm sorry, I'll find you, I'll remember you,  I love you, I'll always love you, I'll never stop loving you,_ and all the other words that bleed into the tissue of his mind. But in this most crucial of moments, he just can't seem to find the words, whether they be simple or elaborate, to articulate the pain and joy that tear his heart to shreds in his chest right now.

Laurent weakly, pathetically, _helplessly_ , reaches out a frail arm towards Robin's dissolving form, fingers spread wide in what may either be a wave goodbye or a plead to stay (Laurent barely knows himself). He doesn't realize that tears roll down his cheeks until they blur his vision, but he knows deep in his heart of hearts that the last, most radiant smile that had graced Robin's face was left for him, and the image of that will stay with him forever.

(He will spend the rest of his life trying to disprove what his eyes tell him to be true, simply because his heart refuses to accept it. Perhaps this is what makes him a worse scientist and a weaker warrior than his mother and father ever were.)

Laurent watches the love of his life dissolve into dust right before his eyes, but somehow still refuses to believe that Robin is gone.

-

_After the war, the mage Laurent disappeared into relative obscurity. It is said that he spent the rest of his life looking for a way to revive his deceased loved ones, but never succeeded. Without any surviving family, he died alone, and his research was lost to history._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a rather Bad End take on the Avatar's true end- is this a semi-AU where the Power of Bonds does not miracles make and the Avatar never returns, or does Robin's revival happen just too late for Laurent? It's up to you to decide. But it's certain that this story is not a happy ending
> 
> And so we come to the end of this three-shot. I hope you enjoyed reading it! It was fun to hurt and explore Laurent's character, especially his habit of denying his loved ones' deaths. Thank you so much for reading, and if you're feeling awfully miserable right now, tell me in the comments! (It means I'm doing my job right.) Then we can cry and be miserable over Laurent together.
> 
> (Laurent is my precious baby I swear. I just like to put him through a lot.)


End file.
